


A Trail Of Magic

by BroodyBabe



Series: Garrett Hawke and Fenris [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, long haired Fenris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroodyBabe/pseuds/BroodyBabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our favorite broody elf gets hit with a wayward spell which has a very unexpected effect. How does our dashing Champion, and the elf himself, handle this exciting twist of their life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trail Of Magic

_Flashes of blinding light of various colors passed him on both sides as he swung his sword into the armored mercenary’s side. Blow after blow landed before the enemy fell, collapsing into a muddled heap as he ran to the next foe. Coming up behind him proved the advantage, allowing a clean slice of his ‘Blade of Mercy’ to lop the offender’s head fully off. Surveying the area around him he found the coast clear, placing ‘Mercy’ back on his back as he turned back to Hawke and his companions. Varric was shaking some stray flesh off of Bianca as Hawke sheathed his daggers and the Abomination straightened himself. He began sauntering back to Hawke’s side - being the only close-range fighter on this mission he had been up close and personal with the mercenaries while the others kept majoritively unscathed - to head back into the city. His blood quickened as Hawke’s eyes met his. Damn him for being so … well Hawke. The corners of Fenris’s mouth could be seen quirking up in a sentiment of a smile only if you knew him well enough to catch it._

_That’s when it hit. A blinding flash of golden light and the fall of Hawke’s cheerful face was all he saw as he was knocked across the clearing to the ground - eyes flitting shut just as Hawke’s twin blades tore into the mage’s chest and the world went black._

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Hawke sat in an armchair in his bedchamber watching as Fenris lay on his bed. He had watched only hours before as a blood mage they’d previously thought dead cast some unknown spell at his lover, knocking him violently to the ground. It had only taken a fraction of a second to react with his daggers plunging into the heart of the mage after the tale-tell flash emerged, but it wasn’t fast enough to keep Fenris from the blast. He’d stabbed the mage’s body a few more times for good measure before tossing the daggers to the side and running to his lover’s side. Checking him over brought some good news - he’d obtained no major injuries as Hawke had feared, instead he’d gained something most peculiar for a spell - or so he assumed with his lack of knowledge in the area. Fenris’s hair had grown a ridiculous amount; long, luscious, and beautiful snow-white locks caressed the face of their unconscious owner. After a moment (one of shock for Hawke), Hawke and the crew gathered their things - Hawke gathering Fenris in his arms - and quickly made their way back to Kirkwall.

Hawke had sat in the same spot since Anders had left, leaning over Fenris and playing gently with the newly-lengthened locks, running his fingers through it and twisting it around his fingers. Fenris looked peaceful in his unconscious state - relaxed even. Fenris’s lack of consciousness was the reason Hawke felt comfortable playing with his hair - something that the broody elf would have glared at him for, or worse, if he were awake.

~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~ 

He’d been blasted by some _Maker-accursed_ magic, knocked to the ground, and watched as Hawke shoved two daggers into the mage’s chest just before the world went back; that’s all he remembered before waking up in a far-too-soft-to-be-his bed wearing far-too-little clothing for his liking. Disoriented by the plush surroundings and pissed with his lack of dress, Fenris attempted to sit up while opening his eyes. He felt firm hands urging him back towards the mattress.

“Woah, stay down Fenris. No quick movements yet.” _‘Hawke.’_ He’d know that voice anywhere. 

Blinking against the brightness of the room, he slowly came to the realization of where he was. Hawke’s bedroom - a place he’d nearly managed to avoid since their awkward night together almost four years before. The night he left Hawke; the night his memories overtook the emotions he tried to cling to. Though he and Hawke had made amends and grown close again, Fenris still avoided this room. It hurt to be here, to remember the look on Hawke’s face as he turned to leave him. It hurt to remember the pain of those next months of seclusion and avoidance as he busied himself with attempts of drowning out the loneliness and pain with whatever drink he could get ahold of. He was glad Hawke had forgiven him for walking out, though he couldn’t imagine how, but this room just contained too much hurt for him still - and so it was avoided if at all possible.

Looking up finally, his green eyes met Garrett’s piercing blue. “Hawke.” The high pitched and cracked voice sounded foreign to his ears, far too high-pitched for his liking. He cleared his throat and tried again, “ _Hawke._ ” _‘Better.’_ he thought. “Why am I in your bed?” It was accusatory and hard, not inquiring, in tone. Hawke visibly relaxed in front of him at the familiar gravely voice, withdrawing a hand from near him on the bed and sitting back into a chair that was placed next to it.

“Better conditions for you. Maker did Anders make a fuss about the disarray of your roof not being good for whatever was keeping you knocked out. How are you feeling?”

Taking a quick inventory of aching limbs and a throbbing, heavy-feeling head, as well as a few smarting bruises, he responded as he usually did. “Fine. I take it was the abomination who ordered a restriction to my movements. And my lack of clothing.” The bitter tone took Hawke by surprise, though he was used to Fenris’s habit of waking grumpy.

“No, that was me on both accounts. You hit hard when you went down, Fen. I just didn’t want you passing out on me again.” Hawke leaned in and brushed a loose lock of too-long snow-colored hair from Fenris’s face, smirking slightly as he spoke. “Andraste be damned if I let someone else undress you.”

The corners of his mouth turned up a bit at that - he loved Hawke’s possessiveness, even if he wouldn’t show it. He sat up slowly, sheets pooling around his waist, before shaking his head slightly as if to clear it, stopping in alarm as something brushed over his shoulders, face, and back. Raised hands searched for the ends of his shaggy edged hair, eyes widening in shock and confusion as he ran further along his locks without finding an end. _“Hawke,”_ he spoke cautiously, “how long have I been unconscious?”

“Only a few hours. Varric, Anders, and I returned with you from the Wounded Coast as quickly as we could. Anders did what he could and left a bit ago.” Hawke reached out to stroke the end of Fenris’s now waist-length hair. “As far as he could tell, this was an effect from the spell that hit you.”

Fenris’s markings glowed with his combined frustration and anger as he stood to find… _something_. Picking up his leggings from where they lay on the stand by the bed, he quickly pulled them on before turning his attentions back to searching the room. He finally came to stand in front of Hawke’s looking glass with a bit of his hair in hand. Garrett watched as Fenris examined his hair’s new length in the mirror, a look of brooding distain on his face. “It’s not that bad, love. It suits you.” Hawke stood, turning to join Fenris as he took one of Garrett’s daggers to his long hair, slicing the lock in half so that the hair fell a bit below his shoulder. The cut hair fell to the floor as Fenris dropped it.

“It is not practical, Hawke.” He grabbed another lock and chopped it as well. As he grabbed for another section of hair, Garrett’s arms encircled his waist, slipping the dagger from his hand. The muscles in Fenris’s shoulders and back immediately tensed with Hawke behind him, relaxing slowly as their eyes met in the looking glass.

“Practical or not, I like it on you.” Garrett pulled Fenris flush against his chest, nuzzling into the long frost-locks.

“You will not like it if it is the cause of my injuries. Or should it tangle around my sword as some demon attacks. It will only get in the way.” He reached for the dagger to continue cutting his hair back into shape. ”Venhedis,” he muttered as Hawke carefully evaded his attempt at taking the dagger back.

“Ah ah ah. If you won’t keep it, at least let me have my moment.” He smiled brightly at Fenris in the reflection before inclining his head slightly in a bow. “Allow me, Serah.” Garrett brought a long lock of hair to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it before slicing through it, evening it with the few Fenris had already cut. A ghost of a blush colored Fenris’s cheeks as he watched Hawke as he continued his ministrations on the long locks of soft white hair. After a few more locks had been cut, Hawke began to weave gentle kisses on Fenris’s neck into his ministrations, brushing his fingers through the already-cut locks and along the edges of Fenris’s ears as he ‘searched’ for a new section to cut. His long ears twitched a few times as Hawke moved through his hair or brushed against his ears themselves, the feeling different from the many times Hawke had tangled his fingers or stroked through his hair before. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the sensation of Hawke caring for his hair.

As time passed, and hair was cut, Hawke found himself distracted by the silky length, nuzzling gently into the sweet smell of the soft hair. “Enjoying yourself Hawke?” Fenris’s deep voice had a small hint of aggravation in it and a raspiness that drew him out of his revelry. He gained a contented ‘hmm’ and a gentle nip at the nape of his neck in response from his lover. Pulling himself away from the tea-scented snowy oasis, Hawke breathed deeply and combed his fingers through Fenris’s locks once again, looking up into beautiful green eyes in the mirror. “I think I could fix that complaint of this,” he tugged gently on a lock of hair for emphasis, “getting in your way.” 

Fenris squeezed his eyes shut momentarily when Hawke tugged on the hair, taking in a sharp breath. Overwhelmed by an unwanted rush of lust, he could not hope of making an argument against whatever Garrett had planned, instead responding with a slightly exasperated “Do what you will.” 

Smiling, Garrett set to work on Fenris’s hair. Limber fingers slipped through silky locks as they were pulled back and woven into an intricate braid, brushing over the sensitive scalp below and tugging on the hair as knots were worked out. The elf’s blood heated as Hawke continued to work on his hair, said blood pooling just south of his abdomen. Leaning forward, Hawke grabbed a strip of red fabric from his dresser and secured the end of the braid with it, letting the braid fall on the loose half of his hair before wrapping his arms around Fenris once again. “There, all finished.” Fenris turned in his lover’s arms, snaking his hands down Hawke’s sides to grip his hips in his hands, drawing circles there with his thumbs. 

“Fen?” Surprise was evident on Garrett’s face as he gazed down at Fenris. 

“ _Hawke._ ” Fenris responded, his voice deep and raspy as he pulled Hawke’s hips roughly against his own, pressing his semi-hard member against the other. Leaning up on the balls of his feet, he kissed Hawke deeply, capturing and nipping at his lower lip. Catching up quickly to the mood change, Hawke tightened his arms around his lover, pulling him closer while running a hand up his back. 

Hawke’s wits returned to him and he broke the fiery kiss. “Does this mean you’ve changed your mind on the length?” He smirked as Fenris’s hands found their way to his chest.

“No.” Fenris growled out, “Most certainly not.” He pushed off of Hawke, putting a bit of space between their chests, “I will not have hair that will cause me possible harm.”

Garrett chuckled, “At this length you would be fine; no hair-caused battle-related injuries, no getting tangled in your blade. Might gain you a few more admirers though…” He moved to pull Fenris back against him again, reaching a hand up to curl into the loose, white hair at the back of Fen’s skull. 

“Hn, like I need more of those. You are almost more trouble than you are worth.” The glint in his emerald eyes showed his humor, an all too rare occurrence in Hawke’s opinion - but that made it all the more wonderful to see. 

Garrett let out an exaggerated gasp as he gazed at his lover, acting appalled at the notion of him being _trouble_. “I’m sure you mean I’m worth more than the trouble I cause.” The glint in those emerald eyes faded to shine with the feelings Fenris held for the rogue, the love he could not voice, the feelings he shared through being there if through nothing else. Garrett tightened his fingers in Fenris’ hair, teasingly tugging on the locks curled around his fingers as playful gasp faded into chuckling.

As his hair was pulled, a breathy moan escaped Fenris before he could stifle it, his eyes widening in surprise at his own sound. Fenris saw his lover’s lips curl into his ‘I’ve found a new toy’ smirk, one usually reserved for when he acquired a new dagger, only this time it was aimed at Fenris himself.

Curiously Hawke tugged on the frost-locks twisted in his hand once again, a bit harder this time, earning a deeper, more drawn out moan from the other man.

“Hawke…” 

Ignoring Fenris, or perhaps merely too enthralled at his new information to hear him, Hawke regripped the hair in his hand and pulled again. Fenris’ eyes fell shut, his head leaning back to follow Hawke’s hand as it tugged the locks backward, his pleasured moan again slipping past slightly parted lips as a blush dusts over his dusky skin.

“Now this is the kind of sight I enjoy seeing.” Garrett smirked as he removed his hand from Fenris’ hair and dropped his head down to capture parted lips in a kiss - lips that evaded his advance. His face clouded in confusion at the denied kiss. “Fen?”

Fenris smirked before he thrust Hawke against the nearest wall, pressing hard against him and fervently kissing him. His hands trailed up Hawke’s sides, slipping his tunic up as his fingers explored the hard muscle underneath. Their lips parted only momentarily to pull Hawke’s tunic off and toss it into a corner of the room, both sets of hands quickly returning to their paths over each other’s bodies.

Breaths became more shallow as heat and passion washed through their embrace. Slipping a hand into the belt at Hawke’s waist, Fenris tugs him away from the wall, turning them before pushing Hawke towards the bed. Hawke stumbled as the back of his knees hit the bed, buckling underneath him and causing him to fall onto the bed. Quickly, Hawke scurried backward up the bed, Fenris closing in and pulling off Hawke’s boots before grabbing ahold of his ankles and twisting. Garrett was flipped onto his back, smiling to himself as Fenris climbed onto the bed behind him, reaching past him for the vial of oil in the bedside drawer.

Dropping the vial at his knee, Fenris leaned forward, slipping Hawke’s trousers and smalls down and off. Garrett groaned softly as his erection was freed from the confines of the fabric. Instantly he spread his legs, preparing for the next step and at the same time thrusting his attractive backside toward the man he couldn’t wait to have inside him. 

Fenris groaned softly as the champion’s pert ass made contact with his throbbing, clothed erection, his hand swiftly meeting the flesh of ass as he uncorked the vial to pour it over his hand.

“Ahh.” the champion exclaimed, hissing out as his cheek began to sting, earning a soothing stroke from an oil-slicked hand. The slicked hand, calloused from hard work over the years, slid its way towards Hawke’s ring of tight muscle. Fingers worked the oil around and into the ring, stimulating him, though nowhere near enough to satisfy the increasingly writhing champion below them. 

Fenris pulled his fingers from the man below him, smirking at the needy whine and the wriggling of hips the action caused. Hawke - No - _His_ Hawke; on his knees before him on the bed, ass in the air wiggling with need, hard member dripping beneath him, head looking over his shoulder, face flushed with arousal as he panted. This was the sight _**he**_ enjoyed seeing.

The elf slipped his leggings down his thighs, his hard length springing forth. He rubbed a hand along Garrett’s hip, “This, Hawke, is the sight _I_ enjoy seeing.” With that, the lithe elf thrust himself deep into Garrett, the both of them groaning as they finally were connected. 

Lyrium-lined hands gripped hard at Hawke as their hips met with each of Fenris’ deep thrusts. Their limbs intertwined as the bed rocked from the force of the elf’s hard thrusts, both men moaning their pleasure. As Hawke’s cries became louder, climaxes fast approaching for them both, Fenris leaned over Hawke’s back, slipping a hand from the hips below him to wrap around the other’s hard length. He began to stroke the hard flesh as his lips found their way to Garrett’s ear.

Two precisely-timed strokes and a bite to his ear had Garrett falling off the edge, cumming over Fenris’ hand as he cried out. Garrett’s insides stroked and pulsed around Fenris’ length as the waves of his orgasm washed over him, fingers reaching up to tangle and pull at white hair once again, bringing Fenris over the edge as well. Thrusting once more, he came deep inside Garrett, his lyrium-lined skin glowing bright.

As the waves of pleasure receded, Fenris pulled out, lying down beside Hawke as they caught their breath. Hawke rolled onto his back, staring up at the canopy above his bed as he allowed his breathing to return to normal. Garrett was content to relaxingly stare at the fabric above him for only a short time - a recent memory bursting through the cloud the recent pleasure had brought down.

Smiling, Garrett rolled onto his side, bringing a hand up to run through Fenris’ hair. Twisting his fingers into the white locks once again, he gently tugged on them, nearly keening in joy as Fenris tilted his head towards him and let out a pleasured sigh from the tug. “I didn’t know you enjoyed having your hair pulled. I’d have found use of this much sooner had I known.”

“I was not privy of such knowledge myself, Hawke.”

“We shall have to explore your body more thoroughly next time, hmm?”

“Hnn.” Heavy-lidded green eyes looked at Garrett, as if calculating something. After a moment he moved, gently pushing Garrett back onto his back. Hawke looked at him curiously as the elf pressed his lithe body against the side of Garrett’s muscular one. Resting an arm and leg around Hawke, Fenris laid his head against a strong shoulder before closing his heavy eyelids.

Garrett watched Fenris’ movements curiously, having not seen him act this way before. His lips twitched upward in a loving smile, a light chuckle emerging as Fenris settled in. “Didn’t know you liked to cuddle either.” His arm wrapped around Fenris’ back, holding the elf close as Garrett turned his head toward his lover and nuzzled his way into the frost-locks atop his head.

“Shut up, Hawke.”

~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~

The first few trindles of morning light flitted through the open window of the Hawke Estate’s master bedroom, illuminating the sleeping couple. Fenris stirred from his slumber, extracting himself from Garrett to sit up and stretch in the cool room.

The sudden lack of Fenris-warmth awoke Hawke from his own slumber, his eyes opening to take in the sight of a back-lit, stretching elf. Gentle light from the window surrounded the elf in a warm golden glow, bouncing off his hair in a halo. Long, gold-shaded, white locks caressed the flexing muscles of Fenris’ shoulders and arms down to his waist. “Maker’s Breath you’re stunning.”

Fenris’ eyes blinked open, looking down at Hawke around a few loose bundles of hair before averting his gaze. He was still uncomfortable with compliments like this, and so he busied himself with brushing the hair from his visage. His eyes widened in shock as he turned his head to examine the locks still between his fingers. It was long again, the same length as it was the last time he had awakened and still in the, now extremely loose, partial braid. “Accursed magic,” he mumbled under his breath. The elf swore in Tevene as he moved from the bed, grabbing his leggings from where they’d ended up and slipping them on. Finding his tunic and armor pieces still on a stand near the bed, he quickly slipped into them as well.

“Going somewhere?” Garrett asked, slightly confused, mostly worried, before he rose from the bed, searching for his own clothing.

Fenris froze as he heard the worry in the tone, knowing the memories he’d brought up in Hawke’s mind, wishing he could erase them from both of their minds. “The abomination… must have some knowledge...” He turned to look at Garrett, willing the man to understand without having to say it aloud to him: without having to admit it to himself. He refused to be helped by the abomination or his magic; this was not going against that, this would not be help - this was duty.

“Alright. I’ll join you, if only to keep the two of you from each other’s throats.” Hawke slipped on his tunic as Fenris silently grabbed one of Hawke’s more decorated daggers.

The elf attempted to slip from the room in his usual way, slipping through a narrowly open door, only to find his newly-acquired long locks, in their loosely-braided state, found _their_ way around the doorknob, halting his progress. Dropping the dagger to the floor and turning, and thus causing himself to be further tangled, he began tugging on the knotted locks to free himself. 

Hawke looked at his helpless lover as he struggled against his hair and the door. He fought back the bout of laughter as he strapped on his belt and daggers. “Hold on, Fen. Stop moving. I’ll help.”

The next few minutes were spent trying to untangle Fenris’ hair from around the doorknob while the ever-growing-angrier elf seemingly refused to stop moving. As soon as he was free, he picked up and tucked the dagger into the back of his belt and faced Hawke. “Thank you.”

“Shall we head to Darktown?”

~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~

Fenris, already agitated with his hair, began making a unhappy grumbling noise as they walked. Each step he took shifted his sword across his shoulders. Each shift caused the pommel of the sword to become more entangled in his long hair. Each wrap around the pommel, each tangle, caused a worse tug against his scalp as he walked. Eventually he couldn’t take it anymore - the constant tugging was getting maddening, and if he didn’t stop it, his scalp seemed likely to bleed. He reached a hand up, grasping and pulling his hair in an attempt to free his aching scalp.

As he heard the scrape of Fenris’ gauntlets, Garrett stopped just ahead of Fenris, causing the elf to halt as he continued tugging at his hair in an attempt to free it. “Need help?” he asked, turning around to face him.

“ _No._ ” With a final, and violent, tug, the elf’s hair came free of the pommel, some locks being ripped or torn in the process. Hawke’s face fell into a disappointed look of shock as he watched the now-free locks flow to the ground. Seeing the saddened look, Fenris spoke. “It is a nuisance, Hawke. I was right that it will get in the way.” With that, Hawke’s decorative dagger was pulled from his waist. He grasped a section of the longer locks as he turned and began walking again, slicing the dagger through the hair just as he had the day before. The loose hair caught in the gauntlet's joints as Fenris released them to drop onto the street. 

“See, even the hair itself does not wish to leave you. You really should learn to listen to your body, Fen.” Hawke could not help but chuckle as he watched his love shake his gauntleted hand in an attempt to rid it of the offendingly clingy hair.

Looking up to scowl at Hawke, he shook his hand a final time. “To the void with you both.” Grasping another section of hair, he resumed his trek to the Abomination’s clinic with a swifter, angry pace, tossing cut hair and mumbled curses to the wind.

Garrett smiled as he watched Fenris’ course, “And there he goes… magical trail of hair left in his wake. Varric would go nuts if he saw this.” He laughed loudly at the thought of the strange things Varric would undoubtedly come up with when and if he were told of this moment. Looking ahead, Garrett saw a particularly long bundle of hair that had been mostly untouched of the street’s grime. He picked it up and tucked it into one of the many pouches at his belt, mentally noting to have some sort of remembrance token made of it. In his mind he was marveling at how Fenris looked in this state - how appealing it was to have him above him the night before, white locks raining down to caress his face. This was surely not a memory to forget.

Lost in the memory, he thought of how he’d have looked below him, hair spread out around him on the pillows and bed as he clung to him in the thralls of pleasure. Perhaps Anders could be bribed into having ‘difficulty’ countering the spell that caused Fenris’ hair to maintain its length...

Looking up again, Hawke noted just how far Fenris had gotten, nearly out of sight at the edge of the square. He swiftly caught up with his lover, content with following just behind and to the side of him, laughing at each of Fenris’ angrily mumbled curses the entire way.

Truly _not a memory to forget._

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter ('cause I'm writing more! :D Yay!) is up for editing! Small changes (or large, though not plot-wise) shall be happening. FEAR NOT, FAITHFUL READERS! They shall only be improvements.


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